


A Tale As Old As Time

by soundtracktomysoul



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Love/Hate, One Shot, bellarke trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundtracktomysoul/pseuds/soundtracktomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of modern day bellarke one shots</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> this is what the effects of The 100 being on hiatus and depriving me of Bellarke made me write

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bellamy falls for his roommate's girlfriend
> 
> or
> 
> The one where Finn is always late and Clarke spend a lot of time with Bellamy while she waits

The first time Bellamy met her, his hair was still wet from the shower and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He swung open the door, cash in hand, and was met with a startled petite blonde. 

Her fist was hanging awkwardly in the air, ready to knock again. Her eyes dropped from his face and trailed down, lingering at his bare chest. He raised an eyebrow and she blushed, quickly averting her stare. 

"Um," she swallowed nervously, "You're not Finn."

"And you're not the pizza guy," he replied. "I'm guessing you're the girlfriend who's way out of his league." 

"And you must be the roommate who plays excessively loud music at the wee hours of the night."

"Bellamy Blake, actually." He smirked. "You can wait inside if you want. Finn should be almost done putting on his makeup."

She followed him inside, trying desperately (and failing) to avoid looking at his toned torso or thinking about how dangerously low that towel was. 

Bellamy rested back on the couch, taking a chug of his beer and turning his attention back to the television where Jeopardy was playing. 

"Which key historical figure said, “I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”?" The host read aloud the question.

"Who is Oppenheimer," they both answer simultaneously. 

Bellamy gives her a small smile, "Not bad for an art major."

She looked at him questioningly, wondering how he knew that about her. 

"It's hard not to listen when Finn goes on about you," Bellamy explained, shrugging. 

"Well pizza, beer, and gameshow reruns on a Friday night says a lot about you too. You're a wild one." She says lightly, taking the seat furthest away from him. 

"Sorry if my plans don't meet your unrealistically high standards of eating at Lé Ark Petité every weekend, princess," he retorted, giving her a narrowed look. 

"No, I didn't mean —" Her face fell. 

"Relax, princess. I know how to take a joke." Bellamy assured her, rolling his eyes a little. 

"Lé Ark Petité? That's where he's taking me?" She wrinkled her nose. 

"Whoops. Was that supposed to be a surprise?" Bellamy doesn't care. "I take it you don't like that place?"

"No, no, it's lovely," she said quietly. 

"Then why are you making that face?" Bellamy asked. 

"Honestly?" She sighed, "That place is a bit too fancy for my liking. I'm just trying to remember what fork to use for my salad."

Bellamy barked with laughter which takes her by surprise. Even more so when she finds herself joining in. 

"What's so funny?" Finn called from the hallway in which he was bustling in.

"Nothing," they both answered innocently in unison. 

"Hey hon," he pecked her cheek. "Sorry to keep you waiting. And I hope you didn't believe any of the horrible things I'm sure Bellamy said about me."

"Bellamy was perfectly fine." She met his eyes for a moment. "Not at all the menace you always complain about." 

"Yeah right," Finn scoffed, watching him make his way over to the kitchen, rolling his eyes.  
"Put on some damn clothes Bellamy! You're dripping all over the apartment!" Finn shouted. 

"I don't think I'm the only one," Bellamy winked, catching Finn's girlfriend not-so-discreetly check out his backside. 

Her eyes widened but the crude comment went over Finn's head. 

"Besides, your girlfriend seems okay with it. More than okay actually." Bellamy grinned. 

Ignoring him, Finn said, "Let's go, babe. We're gonna be late for our reservations," before stalking out the room. 

"Flirting with your roommate's girlfriend? Risky, Blake." She shook her head at him. 

"Checking out your boyfriends roommate? Not much better, princess." Bellamy retorts, smirking. 

"It's Clarke," she corrects. "My name is Clarke. Not princess."

"I'll remember that."

\--------------------------------------

"Finn told me to meet him here. We have another date tonight," Clarke explains when Bellamy opens the door. 

"Finn's not home yet." Bellamy tells her, letting her in and taking her coat. 

"He's late again?" Clarke sighs, annoyed. "This is the third time this week!" 

"I know. I'm starting to think you just show up early so you can hang out with me." Bellamy jokes, tossing her a grape soda (which he bought especially for her so she'll stop complaining that all they have in their refrigerator is beer).

"Oh no. You've figured out my master plan," Clarke deadpans. "But since I am here, I'm ready for a rematch in Grounders."

"Ooh, you sure you're ready for that, princess? I kicked your ass when we played last week." Bellamy chuckles.

"Just pass me a controller and don't cry too much when I beat your high score." She shoves him playfully. 

"Actually," he grimaces, "I have plans." 

"That explains why you're actually wearing pants today," she notices his attire. "So where you going? Hot date or something?" She snorted unattractively (except he didn't seem to think so). 

He didn't respond. 

"Oh." Clarke frowned. "With who?" 

"I don't really know. Her name's Roma. It's sorta a blind date." Bellamy shuffled, looking at his feet. "My sister set us up and you know I can never say no to her." 

"I have so got to meet Octavia. She's the only one that has any control or affect on you whatsoever."

Yeah, that's what Bellamy always thought too. But suddenly, looking at Clarke, he wasn't so sure. 

"Well you should get going." Clarke nodded. "Trust me when I tell you that guys who are late suck." 

"Right," Bellamy reluctantly grabbed his keys.

He didn't want to go. But there was no point in staying. He'd play video games with Clarke until Finn came home and then she'd jump up to leave with him barely giving Bellamy a second glance as she shouted her goodbye over her shoulder. 

She was only his until Finn returned. 

He only mattered when she had no one else. 

"Have fun on your date, Bell," she calls before he left. 

"You too, princess." 

Neither of them sounded like they would. 

\--------------------------------------

Clarke was sprawled out on the couch with her feet resting on Bellamy's lap when she checked her father's watch and noticed the time. 

"Okay, it's been almost two hours. I think I can officially say I've been stood up. So as much fun it is to watch Shark Week with you, I should probably get home." But Clarke made no move to leave. 

"Hey, you okay?" Bellamy nudged her, sensing something was off. 

"Yeah," Clarke waved him off. "It's whatever."

But of course, Bellamy notices the disappointment and hurt laced within her words. 

"I'm sorry, Clarke." It was rare Bellamy ever called her anything but princess so the sincerity wasn't missed. 

"I'm used to it," she shrugged. 

"But you shouldn't be." Bellamy whispered. 

"I know I don't usually mind Finn's lack of punctuality but...it's our three month anniversary and I didn't even wanna make a big deal about but he insisted on going out and making it special. So I've been waiting here for two hours in this uncomfortable dress instead of studying for my calculus test tomorrow that I'm probably gonna fail now and he doesn't even have the decency to call." Clarke spoke quietly, her voice matching the sadness in her eyes, as she messed with the charm on her bracelet. 

"You know what? Screw him." Bellamy exclaimed, pulling Clarke up. "Screw him. We'll open up a bottle of wine and order in some food and have fun ourselves. I'm gonna help you study for your calculus exam and you're gonna upload a picture of yourself on Instagram because you look hot in that dress and you don't need him."

"Bellamy —"

"No, Clarke. I'm serious."

"I just —"

"We're doing this!" Bellamy cut her off. 

"But Bellamy —" 

"I'm not gonna take no for an answer so shut it, princess!" 

Clarke pressed her hand over his mouth before he could interrupt her again. "I was just going say that we're both shit at calculus." 

"Oh," Bellamy laughed. "Well we'll figure it out." 

Bellamy dug up his old notes and textbooks from his calculus class last year and went over the material with Clarke until she got it. (Clarke actually understood the problems a lot earlier than she admitted but Bellamy was just too adorable when he furrowed his eyesbrows and explained how to solve derivatives of logarithmic and exponential functions). 

They ate shitty Chinese take out from the only place that would deliver at that time of night and fought over the fortune cookies. (Clarke declared the greasy overcooked noodles were better than any of the five star restaurants she's been to). 

They got so drunk from the cheap bottle of wine they found in Bellamy's closet that they sat on the floor, clutching their stomachs and laughed at absolutely nothing for a solid fifteen minutes. 

They played Dance Revolution until they realized they both sucked and neither of them were a winner in that department. 

They crashed Instagram with the amount of sneaky selfies they uploaded. 

And Clarke fell asleep with her head on Bellamy's shoulder within the first five minutes of the chick flick she fought him over to watch. 

Bellamy saw her phone light up a half hour later with a long overdue text from Finn apologizing and offering to make it up to her. 

He ignored his own phone when it beeped with a text from Octavia asking why he called and cancelled on his second date with Roma that night. 

He lied there, admiring how Clarke's hair smelled like strawberries, until he drifted off to sleep with Dirty Dancing still playing in the background. 

\--------------------------------------

"Clarke, wait! I'm sorry!" Finn called, struggling to put his pants on while chasing after her. 

"Leave me alone!" Clarke yelled, storming out the room. 

"Clarke, let me explain!" Finn cried desperately. 

"Barging in on you dry humping that girl is explanation enough! We're done!" Clarke shouted, pushing him away from her. 

He grabbed her wrist and she spun around to face him. 

"Let me go, Finn," she growled, fighting the urge to cry. 

"Baby," he looked into her watery eyes with a sad expression, "I love you."

She scoffed in disbelief and slapped him, satisfied with the loud smack and perfectly red handprint on his cheek, she said through clenched teeth, "Fuck you," before running out the apartment. 

She was only halfway down the hallway when she collapsed on the floor and broke down into tears. 

She sat there, choking on her sobs for a few minutes before someone was scooping her up into their arms and cradling her into their lap like a child. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that it was Bellamy. 

"Shhh," he whispered, wiping her watery eyes. "It's okay, Clarke. I'm here. You're okay."

They stayed like that until she couldn't cry anymore and her wails had turned to muffled whimpers. 

"I'm sorry, princess." Bellamy murmured softly, stroking her hair. 

"You knew." She didn't say it as a question or an accusation but simply as a statement. 

"I found out about his other girlfriend, Raven — that's her name — a few days ago," Bellamy explained. "I texted you from Finn's phone telling you to come over." He bit his lip, worried Clarke would be angry at him as well. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Clarke unwrapped herself from him and looked up, "Thank you."

"You want me to drive you home?" He offered, smiling with relief. 

"Only if you'll stay with me," she said, "Just for a little while."

"I'll stay as long as you want me too, princess." Bellamy promised. "Maybe even longer because I'm gonna need somewhere to crash until I find a new apartment."

Clarke looked at him curiously before noticing his bruised knuckles. She shook her head like, please tell me you didn't. 

"I don't think I'm gonna be welcome back at my place seeing as how I punched my roommate in the face." Bellamy said, almost proudly. 

But the way the pain was seeping through Clarke's voice as she spoke made Bellamy want to turn back around and bash Finn's head against the wall until he was hurting half as bad as her. 

"Bell —"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. Violence is never the answer but he deserved it." Bellamy justified. 

"Actually," Clarke gave the slightest of smiles. "I was gonna say I hope you got him good."

"I'm pretty sure I broke his pretty boy nose," Bellamy's infectious laugh got her giggling too. 

Bellamy stared down at the girl he loved with her red, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks and thought she looked beautiful. 

Clarke looked up at the freckled face, curly haired boy that never failed to make her smile and was always on her mind and realization dawned upon her. 

He was the one who was proudest of her when her painting was accepted into this art program, he was the one that randomly texted her funny memes that had her cracking up in the middle of class, he was the one that calmed her down when she had a mental breakdown at three a.m and was sure she was going to flunk out of university, he was the only person she'd ever confessed to about how she subconsciously blamed her mother for her fathers death because she knew he wouldn't judge her. 

He was the one who was always there for her. 

He was the one. 

She pressed her lips to his and he instantly smiled into the kiss. Meeting her eyes, he knew they both mutually understood what that kiss meant. 

It was a promise. 

A promise for something more. 

A promise for forever.


	2. You Make Me Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bellamy is a huge fucking dork who can't keep his eyes off the beautiful blonde student aid in the library.

Someone was staring at her. 

She could sense it. 

Yet when she tore her eyes away from the latest mystery novel she was engrossed in and noticed a boy with curly hair and glasses too big for his face peering back at her from across the room, she was surprised to say the least. Even more so, when he let out an honest-to-God squeak as he realized she'd caught him and turned his attention to the floor. 

He looked vaguely familiar and it took her a minute but she recognized him. 

He was a regular here in the library at Ark University where Clarke worked as a student aid and spent most of her free time. He was quiet and kept to himself. He always sat at the round table in the back with a coffee cup permanently stuck in his grasp and never actually checked out a book but instead opted for starting and finishing it right there. Sometimes he'd show up for a quick study session between classes and other times he'd stay until the sun came up the next day. 

She'd seen him around but never really noticed him. They'd never spoken. She didn't even know his name. But for some reason, now she found herself staring at him. 

\--------------------------------------

Clarke had caught him staring each time he came to the library after that. 

She didn't give it much more thought until, 

"Hi, uh, Clarke."

She held up a finger to whoever it was signaling to wait a moment while her eyes swept across the last page of her dystopian YA book, finishing it in one quick skim. 

She looked up, ready to address the person, and smirked when she saw it was him. 

"Well if it isn't the peeping Tom."

"What? No I wasn't — I didn't —" He stammered. 

It seemed like choking out that simple hello was a lot of effort for him so Clarke thought she should give him a break. 

"Dude, chill. I was just joking," She told him lightly. And you could see the relief on his face. "Since it seems like you're having trouble forming a coherent sentence, why don't we skip the pleasantries and you can just go ahead and tell me what you need?"

"Um," he said, "I — I wanted to ask you something."

"Can you act it out? Do you wanna draw a picture? May I buy a vowel?" She let out a laugh before pursing her lips in thought. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. Seriously, what can I help you with?"

"Oh," he frowned. "Er..."

"Well surely you need something, right?" 

"Right," he nodded. "I need you to — to...check out this book for me."

"That's kinda my job so why not?" Clarke offered him a friendly smile, hoping to relax him. "What book?"

His eyes widened like he wasn't expecting that question.

"You don't have a book?" She questioned. 

"Of course I do!" He spun around and grabbed a random one from the cart passing by. "This one!" He declared, handing it to her with a satisfied smile. "It's my favorite."

Clarke looked between him and the book, confused. She scrunched up her eyebrows and tilted her head, looking curiously at him. "Are you sure about that?"

He just nodded dumbly. 

"The Pathway to Pregnancy: The Many Many Mysteries of the Woman's Menstrual Cycle by Marie Jane Taylor," Clarke read aloud, watching the boy's eyes widened with horror. 

"Hey, I'm not one to judge a choice of literature," Clarke bit her lip to keep from laughing, "No matter how fucking weird it is."

"Pregnancy?" He sputtered out, his face flushed. "Why would Octavia —?" He shook his head, muttering to himself before letting out a quiet gasp. "Lincoln," he practically growled, his eyes darkening. 

"Care to explain?" 

"You see, I'm — I'm not so good at talking to...you know...pretty girls," He admitted, letting out a long sigh, seemingly defeated. 

"And here I thought you just weren't good at talking to people in general," Clarke snidely remarked. 

"Honestly, I just — I needed an excuse to talk to you," he mumbled, embarrassed. 

"Why?"

"Because I like you!" He blurted out, his eyes finally meeting hers. "You make faces while you read. And you're blunt and brash and beautiful all at the same time. And you're smart and intimidating. And I think your hair looks pretty in a braid." 

"So your master plan to woo me was to show me your interest in the female body?" Clarke asked, confused. 

"No!" He cried, his face flushing red. "I pretended to need a book. I just picked this one because I remember my sister reading this a few days ago and I recognized the cover. I didn't know it was about...that." He wrinkled his nose in disgust to which she rolled her eyes at because oh, grow up. 

"But why would Octavia be reading a book about pregnancy?" He continued. "She doesn't read anything but Cosmo. And then I thought about her boyfriend Lincoln who — by the way — is way too old for her and realized she must be pregnant so excuse me while I proceed to freak out."

"Okaaay," Clarke said slowly. "I'm not quite sure I caught all that but one, I think you're jumping to conclusions so just go home and ask your sister upfront if she's knocked up. Two, my hair totally does look good in a braid. Three, at least you're not stuttering anymore. And four, are you gonna check out the book or not?"

"Um no."

"Fine. Is there anything else you don't really need?" Clarke asked, desperate for the conversation to be over. 

"Well..." he hesitated, fidgeting with the chain of the necklace he wore. "I've already made a fool of myself in front of you anyway so it's not like I can make it worse." 

"Nice pep talk," she commented dryly. 

"Go on a date with me."

"And you made it worse," Clarke sighed. 

"Is that a yes?" He asked hopefully. 

"That's a hell no," she declared harshly. 

"Oh," he frowned. "Why not?" 

"Because this isn't a Jane Austen novel and I'm not gonna run off into the sunset with some stranger," she retorted. "I don't even know your name."

"Bellamy," he said immediately, "Bellamy Blake."

"Oh well in that case," Clarke pretended to think about it, "Still no." 

There was a tone of finality in her voice that Bellamy refused to acknowledge. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Octavia's not pregnant!"

"Who?" Clarke stopped shelving books to look at him. 

"My sister!" He told her. "She's not pregnant."

"Oh...I'm sorry?" 

"No! That's a good thing, remember? It's a great thing!" he insisted. 

"Oh yeah," she nodded. "Then congratulations."

"Thank you," Bellamy was full-on grinning, "I was so happy I gave her my credit card and told her to go nuts...which in hindsight probably wasn't the best idea considering she's a borderline shopaholic."

"Aren't we all? Wait, you rewarded her for not being pregnant with money?" Clarke clarified. "Shit, I'm not pregnant either. Can I have your car?" 

Bellamy let out a laugh too loud for that meager joke. 

"Are those prescription glasses?" Clarke asked randomly, touching the rim of the thick lenses. 

"Oh. Um, no." He blushed unnecessarily. "I just think they make me look smarter."

"A bit pretentious, don't you think?" Clarke gently pulled them off his face and took a step back to examine him. 

"You should keep them off. You look cuter without them." She suggested casually before scurrying away to squeeze between another shelf. 

After that, Bellamy never wore those glasses again and allowed them to collect dust in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. 

Of course, he claimed Clarke had absolutely nothing to do with that. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Wow," Bellamy's now familiar voice remarked, "You look like hell."

Well he wasn't wrong. Clarke felt like hell.

Clarke was hunched over the front desk massaging her temples and shielding herself from the bright library fluorescence. Her hair was messily twisted into a bun and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. 

"You know you're growing on me more and more every day," she scowled, "Like a fungus."

Ignoring the jab at him, he let out a laugh. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea," Clarke groaned. "Raven decided I needed to stop holing myself up at this library and have some fun so — much to my dismay — she took me out clubbing. I have fun, okay? I just prefer to do it at home where it's nice and quiet and I don't have to wear pants. But when I told her that, all she said was that I don't have to wear pants to the club either and winked — actually winked! And God, it was awful. Murphy tried to shove his tongue down my throat and I had half a mind not to rip it out his mouth and throw it at him. We ran into Finn of all people — that bastard — which automatically put Raven into a shitty mood so she got completely trashed which means I had to spend the entire night babysitting her and making sure she didn't jump up on the bar and take her top off again."

Despite not knowing any of the people she mentioned or the story behind them, he listened intently. 

"After I dragged her ass back to our apartment around 3:00 a.m, I definitely needed a drink. And one drink eventually turned into me falling asleep on the couch while watching The Golden Girls and cuddling a bottle of cheap tequila that tasted about as good as Monty's last batch of moonshine," She sighed, shaking her head with shame. "And I was running late this morning so I didn't even get to stop at Starbucks so from how terrible I feel right now, I'd sell my grandmother for an Advil."

"Unfortunately, I have no painkillers on me but I do have an extra latte," He slid a cup towards her. 

"You bought me coffee?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

"Oh please. This is pure sugar, not coffee," Bellamy corrected, "And I didn't buy it just for you. It was...for a friend."

"A friend?" She scoffed in disbelief. 

"Yes, I do have friends." He mocked. 

"I was meeting up with them but they cancelled last minute so I'm left with this diabetes in a cup. I thought you'd want it." He shrugged, leaning against the desk as an attempt to look casual. 

"Venti quad, half caffe breve, with whip, no foam, two splenda stirred skinny, three pump vanilla mocha latte with a caramel drizzle?" Clarke said after hesitantly taking a sip of the familiar drink. 

"So your friend just happens to also like my obnoxiously complicated signature drink that I get every morning?" She asked skeptically, giving him a pointed look. 

"What a coincidence," He feigned innocence. 

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Okay so I may have bribed the barista to tell me the pretty blonde's girl's usual," he admitted, embarrassed. 

Bellamy waited for her to scold him or at least start teasing but when Clarke opened her mouth, she paused and took another sip, rolling her eyes, and letting out a begrudging, "Thanks." 

\----------------------------------------------

"No! I don't care, Mom!"

Bellamy heard her before he saw her. Even through the dull roar of the rain pattering violently, her voice echoed. He was surprised to find Clarke standing outside under the small shade near the entrance of the library rather than squished between bookshelves or leaned over the desk with a pencil behind her ear as usual. 

"Stop it. I'm not going to change my mind." She was facing the wall with her cell phone pressed up against one ear and a finger plugged in the other to drown out the noise. "This is my life! I stopped looking for your approval a long time ago...That's not fair! I'm trying to — No, you listen! I won't — Oh okay! You're one to talk...I'm so sick of this! Whatever. Just don't expect me to see me there...Fine! Bye!" 

She stabbed the 'end call' button and paced back and forth, still too preoccupied to notice Bellamy watching her. 

Hesitantly, he called out, "Clarke?" 

"What?!" She snapped, spinning around to face him and huffing angrily. Her eyes softened when she saw him. "Oh. Hey Bellamy." 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I was just..." Clarke waved it off with a hand gesture. 

"We don't have to talk about if you don't want to," he offered. 

"Thanks," she sighed in relief. 

"But if you do," Bellamy said. "I'm here to listen."

She nodded appreciatively, giving him a genuine smile. 

"Now come on. You're all wet. Let's go inside before you catch hypothermia." Bellamy shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her without a second thought before protectively putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her in. 

Considering there was a storm brewing outside and it was the night before the start of Christmas break, the library was nearly empty save for Helen the librarian, a guy on the computer with music playing so loud you could hear it through his headphones, and a girl in the back who looked like she was seconds away from passing out from exhaustion. 

"So what are you still doing on campus?" Clarke broke the silence after we both took a seat on the couch. "I figured you and Octavia would be on your way home to visit your family by now."

"Uh, well, there's not any family for us to visit," Bellamy explained, scratching his head. "My mom passed a few years back from cancer and I never knew my dad. All I really have is my sister."

"Dude, I'm sorry. That sucks." Clarke sympathized but was sure not to give him a look of pity. 

He shrugged like, yeah well what can you do?

There was a moment of silence. 

"My dad's dead," Clarke blurted out. "It was a car accident less than a year ago. And from the conversation you heard outside, you can pretty much guess how my relationship with my mom is. That's why I don't go home. We've never really seen eye to eye, me and her. But it's gotten worse after my dad was gone. He was always playing mediator between the two of us. Now I sorta blame her for his death and she resents me for leaving and doing everything she never wanted me to do."

"What? Going to decent college and becoming successful?" Bellamy asked, confused. 

"No, dropping out of med school to go to a non-ivy league public college and become an artist," Clarke corrected, "which is why she cut me off from all the money my dad left me and why Sunday night family formal dinner where I get chastised for my posture and have to use four different forks aren't really at the top of my priority list."

"No offense but your mom sounds like a total douche." 

Clarke barked out a laugh at that. 

"Hey," she said suddenly. "Can I draw you?"

"What?"

"I just really feel like I have to capture your constellation of freckles and curly mess of hair right now. So can I draw you?" She asked again. 

"Um. Sure, I guess." Bellamy's face broke into a smile. "But if you draw me like one of your French girls, I'm gonna have to ask for a copy to marvel at my own beauty."

"Okay, princess. Keep your pants on — literally." Clarke rolled her eyes as she pulled out her sketchpad from her bag. 

"Princess? You're the prissy trust fund brat that spends her days reading fantasy fairy tale novels," Bellamy pointed out. 

"Well you're not wrong," she agreed. 

So Clarke sketched Bellamy while he made ridiculous model poses that had her muffling her giggles with the palm of her hand. And they talked. A lot. They swapped stories from their childhood. He told her about his mom, Octavia, Miller, and Murphy. She told him about her dad, Raven, Wells, Monty, and Jasper. He even learned the treacherous story of Finn Collins and the Incident of '08 when Raven accidentally burned off her eyebrows. He explained how he got that scar on his stomach and she recounted the story of how she spent three days in a hospital because of a Jonty prank. His eyes lit up as he animatedly recited a Roman history story or a Greek mythology tragedy. He saw her blush for the first time as he streamed a chain of endless compliments after flipping through the pages of her sketchpad. She even let him braid her hair. 

They ended their night with Bellamy's arm getting stuck up the vending machine in the lounge while Clarke recorded him on Snapchat, laughing at him, and not doing a damn thing to help. 

He never did get that candy bar. 

\----------------------------------------------

It was nearing one o'clock in the morning and Bellamy was awakened to loud, rapid knocking on his front door. 

He considered not answering it — half out of laziness and half out of fear because anyone who ever came over phoned ahead or was delivering a pizza.

But whoever it was was persistent as well as annoying. 

So Bellamy scrambled out of bed without bothering to put on a shirt and squinted through the peephole.

He unlocked the latch and swung the door open, very confused. 

"Clarke?" He asked, still disoriented from his slumber. 

Of all the people it could've been, he would've never expected Clarke Griffin, out of breath and standing before him with flushed cheeks, in a modest, fancy, flown blue dress that matched her eyes, with smudged makeup, and her hair in a messy up-do. 

Although she looked like she belonged in a country club at the moment, which didn't seem very much like Clarke, she looked beautiful nonetheless. 

And nervous. Which made Bellamy nervous because he's never seen her look so scared and vulnerable. 

Her eyes trailed down to his bare torso for a moment before snapping back up. "Um. Nice bed head."

"Clarke?" He said again. "What the hell? What are you doing here? How do even you know where I live?"

"Raven hacked into the school system and searched up your address...which I know now was a bit extreme but..." she trailed off with a shrug. 

"So why'd you go through all that trouble to come find me? What's up?"

"Oh. Right. Um." Clarke shook her head, mentally preparing herself. "Okay, look. You're not my type. You're the complete opposite of my type. You're shy and quiet and brooding and a huge fucking dork."

"Er...so you came all the way here at one in the morning to insult me?" Bellamy looked taken back, not at all sure where this conversation was going. 

"No! Just shut up and listen." Clarke took a deep breath and started again. "Maybe the fact that you're not my type is a good thing because my past experiences proves that my type are huge assholes. And I didn't plan any of this. I didn't plan to meet you. I didn't plan to like you. And I certainly didn't plan to fall for you. But you came out of nowhere with your stuttering and your blushing and your nerdy fucking glasses. But I haven't gotten laid in way too long so I wrote it off as lust, but then we started talking. And I'd never been so raw and open with someone. I told you things I haven't told people I've known for years. We had genuine intellectual conversations about politics and literature and art. You were sweet and made me laugh. So I couldn't deny it anymore. I...like you. Like I actually like-like you which hasn't happened since, well, Finn. And now I feel like I'm quite literally sick. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even think straight. I'm smiling more and I blush and there's this weird thing that makes my stomach all light and fluttery. And most of all, I'm really fucking scared. So I guess what I'm saying is...you make me sick, Bellamy."

A minute went by. Then another. And another. 

"Dude, say something before I scream." 

"I'm just trying to figure out if I'm dreaming," Bellamy grinned, "because you've been making me sick since the first time I saw you."

Clarke's face involuntarily lit up. "Go on a date with me."

"Hmm," Bellamy teased, "I don't know. This isn't a Jane Austen novel and I'm not gonna run off into the sunset with some stranger."

Clarke smirked and leaned in to whisper in his ear seductively, "Well then I suppose you can spend all night getting to know me. Every inch of me."

With that, he pulled her in until she was up against him, cupped her face with his hand, and smashed his lips against hers. She was caught by surprise and made an honest-to-God squeak. But it didn't take long for her to throw her arms around his neck, fingering one of the curls on the back of his head, and kiss back. 

She smiled. And he smiled at her smile.


End file.
